


a tale of love and lies

by Lunatical



Category: The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Royalty, BAMF Tony Stark, Disguise, Earth-3490, F/M, Female Tony Stark, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Knight Tony Stark, Secret Identity, but they're false accusations, king steve rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-09 09:55:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17999609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunatical/pseuds/Lunatical
Summary: As soon as Steve’s eyes fell upon the stranger, all the air rushed form his lungs.The man was clad in the most beautiful armor Steve had ever seen, smooth and shiny even after what had to have been a long journey, and colored the most incredible shade of crimson, almost glowing in the candlelight as the man moved forward.Steve had the sudden longing to draw the stranger, to capture such beauty upon paper, and the desire was so abrupt and unexpected that he almost gasped.Removing her helm, Antonia smiled at the king. “Your majesty, I have made my way here from the Kingdom of Manhattan, a journey of many months. My name is Antonio, and I was lately a knight in service to King Howard of Manhattan. On this day, I am but a kingless knight looking for a new liege.”(A stevetony fairy-tale AU)





	a tale of love and lies

_Howard, King of Manhattan, had four daughters, one of whom, having become a wanderer and altered her name of Antonia to Antonio, arrived at the court of Steve, King of Brooklyn, who took her to wife on account of the many worthy deeds wrought by her._

_You shall hear how a certain damsel, endowed with a noble soul and high courage, one who in the course of her noteworthy adventures was well served by fortune, held it preferable to become a servant than to fall into a base manner of life; how, after enduring servitude for some time, she became the wife of King Steve, and lived content with her reward. All this will become known to you in the story I am about to tell._

***

In visiting the Kingdom of Manhattan, travelers often strayed from their journeys to stop by its great capital, a city full of noble buildings situated in a country rich in flourishing fields and plentiful orchards, graced with an abundance of fresh water and warm sunshine.

Many winters ago, the city and its castle were under the rule of a king known by the name of Howard Stark, a brilliant and cunning man. At the height of his reign, Howard, in his desire to have an heir to his kingdom, took for his queen Maria, then the princess of the Kingdom of Italia: a lady who was said to be as ethereal as the moon itself, the most beautiful of all her peers, and delightfully talented in many of the Arts.

From their union three daughters were born, all sharp of intellect, full of grace, and fair as rosebuds in the morning. The first was called Virginia, the second Natalia, and the third Darcy.

As time went on, and as Howard’s daughters grew and blossomed into beautiful women, it became clear to the king that Maria had reached such an age where she would no longer bear him another child, and that their three daughters were ready for marriage. Therefore, he gave the three princesses in wedlock to their most beloved suitors, and at the same time he divided his kingdom into three parts, which he gave as dowry to each of his daughters, only keeping for himself as much as he judged necessary for sustaining himself and his court.

And after all these things had been carried out, the result of his endeavor proved to be exactly as he had wished: Virginia was wedded to Harold, King of California; Natalia was wedded to James, King of the Winterlands; Darcy was wedded to Ian, King of Albia; and to each one of them was assigned a third of their father's kingdom.

From then on, the good king, with his beloved wife Maria, lived righteously in peace and comfort. But after a few years had passed, the queen, of whom the king expected no further offspring, became pregnant for a fourth time.

Nine months later, the queen bore Howard another princess, a beautiful little girl whom the queen welcomed with an affection as warm as that she had given to her other three children. But the king was not as well pleased with the unexpected arrival of this last heir, not on account of any dislike for the child herself, but because, with his kingdom divided and given away, he feared that there would be no dowry sufficient for his fourth daughter to win her a marriage worthy of a princess. Nevertheless, he handed over the child to the care of his trusted servants Jarvis and Ana, who were to act as the child’s tutors, and ordered for her to be raised as her other sisters had been.

The child, to whom was given the name Antonia, grew day by day more lovely: her beauty was beyond compare, her character bright and colorful, and her mind sharper than any other in the land.

All subjects brought forward by the most learned masters would be readily apprehended by her in turn. By the time Antonia was twelve years of age, she had already learned to sing, to dance, to play the piano, and to perform every one of those accomplishments which are proper for a princess, and in which her own mother excelled.  But, not content with these graces, Antonia gave herself also to the study of the sciences, her father’s most favored subject, which proved to be a great source of delight for her, so much so that she would often spend over her experiments not merely the day, but the night as well.

And yet, above all these excellencies, the one she mastered most completely was the art of war: she learnt to ride horses, to handle and forge weaponry and armor, and to take part in sparring with as much vigor and enjoyment as if she had been a strong and battle-hardened soldier instead of a young maiden. Indeed, she was so skilled in combat and in the creation of its tools that she proved herself a worthy opponent for her father’s finest knights.

Therefore, on account of all these virtues, and on her own account as well, Antonia was greatly loved by the king and the queen and by all those around them, so that there seemed to be no limit to their affection.

But when Antonia came to a marriageable age, her father, finding that he had now neither the land nor the gold required to secure a marriage with someone equal to her status, despaired that his daughter would not be able to marry.

In the months following her coming of age, Antonia was sought in marriage by many gentlemen, amongst whom was Tiberius, the son of the Marquis of Stanfield.

And this, my dear readers, is where our story truly begins.

 

***

 

“You called for me, Father?”

King Howard nodded, gesturing for his daughter to take a seat at the table in his chambers, his cape dragging behind him as he sat down heavily on his chair. He spared a tired smile for his beloved wife, who was sat beside him, and tried to gain hope as he saw the smile returned.

As soon as they were all seated, and as soon as he had steeled himself in spirit, the king began speaking.

“Antonia, my dear daughter, the time has now come to see you married, and…” Howard heaved a deep sigh, feeling the weight of his shortcomings bear upon his shoulders. Maria, always the most caring of souls, placed her hand upon his own, silently giving him her support and lending him her strength.

Howard begged the gods to avoid his daughter’s rage, and continued.

“Antonia, we have found you a husband – a young man who should hopefully please your taste. His name is Tiberius, a handsome young man, with good promise of becoming a fine husband for you; he’s the son of the Marquis of Stanfield, our good friend and neighbor. Moreover, he asks nothing but your hand in marriage, which you must know I consider far more valuable than any treasure in the world. But as you also know, while you are the daughter of a king, I am too poor in money and in land to provide you with a dowry worthy of a more… _suitable_ alliance. This man is the best suitor we’ve received at court since your coming of age, and he is willing to accept you with no dowry and no land to your name. Your mother and I believe that you should accept his offer.”

Antonia was silent for a long moment, carefully mulling over her father's words. She had known, ever since she was but a child, that this day would come. The day where her accomplishments, her studies, and her very own self would no longer be enough to protect her status and her independence. She was the daughter of a king, but her father had nothing to offer in an alliance, the better part of his lands and money already given to her sisters, who, thanks to their father’s riches, had been able to choose their own husbands, a rarity among those of royal blood.

But Antonia had been unexpected, and thus deprived of such a chance.

Yet she knew her own worth. She did not need to marry to be happy, she did not need a husband to fulfill her dreams, and her father did not need an alliance with a mere Marquis.

Therefore, without wasting any more time over the matter, she rose to face her father and answered him truthfully.

“Your Majesty, I have no words to express my gratitude for everything you’ve done for me. You have allowed me to pursue my passions, regardless of their unusual nature, and you have granted me the freedom to become the woman that stands in front of you today. I know how hard you have tried to provide me with a worthy husband in spite of your lack of resources, and I know in my heart that all you wish is for me to be happy. But...” She faltered, noting the sadness dawning on her parents’ eyes. “But I cannot accept your proposal. You, Father, have raised four daughters, three of whom you have married in the most honorable fashion to three wonderful kings picked by their own hand, and yet you wish to dispose of me, one who has never sought marriage, in an ignoble alliance that benefits no one but a lowly Marquis. This is why I tell you, dear Father, that I will never take a husband unless I so desire, like my three sisters did, and that if such a day should never come then I shall wear the crown upon my own head and build my kingdom from scratch.”

And as soon as she had finished speaking, Antonia took her leave of the king and queen, who were left to stare at her retreating form in shock and growing despair.

After bidding farewell to Ana and Jarvis, Antonia donned her finest armor and packed her favored weapons, readied her most beloved possessions, provisioned herself from the castle stores, saddled her horse, and set forth from Manhattan, alone and determined to follow whatever road fortune might lay open to her feet.

***

Not long set out upon her journey, she became aware of the perils that laid in wait along the path of a young maiden travelling alone. The first time a man tried to put his hands upon her while she slept, her knife ended up embedded in his chest. The second time, three men met their death at the end of her sword, but the fourth one managed to escape with part of her gold. When she almost lost her horse, after two thieves tried to ambush her, she knew that continuing her journey as she was presented far too great a risk.

Her long black hair was cut roughly with a sharp knife. Her breasts were hidden and flattened by a tight bandage. And, after giving a blacksmith most of her remaining gold to be allowed for a day in his workshop, her armor was easily modified to better fit her new appearance: slightly wider at the shoulders, and with straighter lines to add a bit of bulk, nothing more than a handful of changes with the intent of tricking the eye without sacrificing neither the armor’s strength nor its efficiency.

Now, looking at her reflection in the water, she could barely recognize herself. She had always been built like a fighter rather than a princess, with strong muscles which were the result of a lifetime of training, but with all of her feminine features hidden and abandoned she no longer looked like a woman at all, taking instead the appearance of a strong, if young, man.

She allowed herself a moment to grieve what she had lost, and to yearn once more for the freedom to be herself, but soon she got up, gathered her supplies, and set forth once again.

Thus Antonia became Antonio, a princess disguised as a knight.

She passed over many mountains, lakes, and marshes, and she saw many lands, and heard the tongues and learned the ways and manners of countless people. At last, one fateful day, just at the set of the sun, she arrived at a famed city called Brooklyn, the capital of the surrounding lands which bore the same name, at that time under the rule of King Steve.

Upon entering the city, she couldn’t help but admire its beauty: the superb buildings, the straight and wide avenues, the aqueduct providing the city with running water, the colorful markets, and the flow of people along the road. Rarely in her travels had she stumbled upon such a beautiful city. Moving through the streets, paying little heed to the stares and whispers that followed in her wake, she suddenly found herself in the city square. Raising her eyes, she was met with the sight of the king’s palace, a tall, imposing building, adorned with columns of the finest marble, shining like a jewel over the crowd standing in its shadow.

The reason for such a gathering soon became evident when the king himself appeared upon a balcony in view of the whole piazza, smiling and waving at his people. It seemed as though this was a daily occurrence, Antonia noted with intrigue, looking around to the cheering crowds as the king bid them goodbye. The people soon dispersed, flowing back into their homes before night came, as though they had all been waiting for their king’s blessing before finding their way to their beds.

With a gentle nudge, she directed her horse towards the entrance to the castle.

The guards at the door stopped her, took note of her fine armor and the sword resting at her side, listened to her introduction, shared a look, and went to request an audience with the king.

***

Steve had been in the process of removing his undergarments when a harried servant had burst into the room to inform him that a knight was requesting an audience, expressing a wish to receive shelter and hospitality for the night.

Biting back a curse, he quickly dressed himself with the help of his servant, barely stopping long enough to grab his cape and the crown before striding towards the throne room. He must have looked particularly displeased – he had, after all, been looking forward to settling in bed after a hard day full of meetings – because the guards hurried to open the doors as soon as they saw him approach. Nodding his thanks, he walked inside and settled (once again) on his throne, gesturing for the knight to be brought in.

As soon as Steve’s eyes fell upon the stranger, all the air rushed form his lungs.

The man was clad in the most beautiful armor Steve had ever seen, smooth and shiny even after what had to have been a long journey, and colored the most incredible shade of crimson, almost glowing in the candlelight as the man moved forward. His stride was proud and confident, the steps of a man who was in his element and who had nothing to fear. The knight’s sword was sheathed, his hand resting on its pommel with the ease and familiarity of a soldier. Steve had the sudden longing to draw the stranger, to capture such beauty upon paper, and the desire was so abrupt and unexpected that he almost gasped.

Instead, he held his silence, gathered his wits, straightened up to his full height, and nodded at the newcomer.

“State you name, outsider, and the reasons for your visit.”

The man kneeled gracefully, placing his hand on his breastplate in a show of respect, and stood again.

Removing her helm, Antonia smiled at the king. “Your majesty, I have made my way here from the Kingdom of Manhattan, a journey of many months. My name is Antonio, and I was lately a knight in service to King Howard of Manhattan. On this day, I am but a kingless knight looking for a new liege. I yearn to prove myself, and I pledge to serve any lord deserving of my sword and life with all the faith and devotion I can.”

Steve remained silent, barely able to contain his surprise. He had expected such a finely armed knight to be a battle-worn soldier, decorated with honors befitting his age and experience, but when the foreigner removed his helm Steve had trouble believing his own eyes.

Rather than a man, the newcomer – Antonio – seemed more like a boy barely of age, with a smooth face that looked as though it had yet to see a razor. His dark hair fell around his ears in soft curls, making his cheeks look softer and rounder, and his warm brown eyes were as big as a child’s, yet bright and sharp with intelligence.

The king had to take a second to collect himself, distracted as he was by the man’s unexpected beauty, and immediately felt ashamed of his own building desire, speechless as he traced the knight’s face with his eyes.

Clearing his throat, he desperately tried to herd his thoughts back towards safer territory.

“Very well, Antonio of Manhattan, it is my pleasure to grant you hospitality here in my court, with no other duty laid upon you than to prove yourself worthy of calling me your liege, if you so desire.”

Antonio bowed again in gratitude, a brilliant smile lighting his face.

“I desire nothing else, Your Highness. I would love nothing more than to serve under you, and be granted the privilege of calling you my lord.”

Steve nodded in acknowledgement, dismissing the knight and ordering he be given a room with every necessity he might require, and then Steve quickly said his goodbyes, anxious to retreat to his chambers.

That night, as he pleasured himself with his own hand, Steve resolutely did not think of a bright smile and a soft face beaming at him, just as he didn’t imagine a soft moan of “thank you, my liege” being whispered in his ear as he came undone.

***

In the following months Antonia, under the guise of a man, entered into the service of the king, soon becoming one of his most trusted knights.

Her weapons and armor were of much higher quality than those forged by any other hand in Steve’s kingdom, an advantage which, coupled with her fine abilities, made her a dangerous foe for any opponent and allowed her to partake in many adventures to quench her thirst for knowledge and honor.

Sir Antonio soon became famous amongst the people of Brooklyn, whispers in the streets calling him the Man of Iron, the finest of the king’s knights, who served him so well and so gracefully that everyone who came near him was astonished by his talents.

Steve himself found his own heart growing fonder and fonder of Tony, as he had taken to calling him, the two of them becoming closer with each passing day. They were often seen together around the castle, whether sparring, walking through the gardens, or discussing battle plans and poetry books alike, one always by the other’s side. Word spread through the land of the king and his knight, brought together by destiny, two souls fated to connect.

And it so happened that such rumors reached the ears of one of Steve’s potential suitors, a rich maiden by the name of Deborah. She had been courting Steve since she had come of age, and while the king of Brooklyn was powerful enough not to need an alliance with her, their two families had a long history of conflicts that their fathers had tried to mend, and a marriage between them had been discussed from the day they had been born.

Nevertheless, Steve had yet to agree to take her hand in marriage, continually refusing her advances, and patience had never been one of Deborah’s virtues.

Therefore, when she had sufficiently observed Antonio’s graceful poise, his pleasant manners, his bright intellect, and, above all, the king’s fondness for him, she began to cast her eyes more diligently upon the knight during her stays at court, a devious plan gradually forming in her head.

At last, the opportunity came for her to converse with the knight, alone and undisturbed, and her plan began to be put into motion.

“Sir Anthony! Sir Anthony!” she called, rushing towards him. “Oh, at last, my dear knight, I have finally found you!”

Antonio slowly stopped and turned around, a confused frown upon his brow. He quickly schooled his features to a more appropriate smile.

“I beg your forgiveness, my lady. You seem to know my name, but I’m afraid that the gift of hearing yours has yet to be bestowed upon me.”

“Oh, your words are as flattering as a poet’s, my dear knight,” she returned with a breezy laugh, flushing a bit. “My name is Deborah, Lady of the neighboring lands known as the Red Woods.”

Recognition flashed in Antonia’s eyes. Steve had told her all about Lady Deborah, who was supposed to one day become Steve’s wife… and whom Steve despised with a passion. He had described her as “displeasing” on more than one occasion, Antonia remembered suddenly, hiding her smirk by bending down and placing the breath of a kiss on the back of Deborah’s hand.

Antonia had to agree with Steve, she thought, watching while Deborah fanned herself as though she had just been passionately kissed.

The lady truly was displeasing. She hadn’t even gotten Antonio’s name right.

“A pleasure to meet you, my lady.” Antonia bowed again, slightly, just to hide her face as the lie left her lips.

Deborah didn’t seem to notice.

“I wanted to talk to you, Sir Anthony, in hopes of discovering if your fame has merit. And now, looking at your fair face and hearing such warm and passionate words, I can’t help but rejoice in the knowledge that the rumors were true.” Deborah softly placed a hand on his arm, giving it just the barest hint of a squeeze in a poorly disguised attempt to feel the hardness of his muscles.

A fine man indeed, Deborah thought, lowering her head and glancing up at him through her eyelashes. No wonder the king was so fond of him.

“I wanted to invite you to my castle, Sir Anthony, to show you around and discuss the possibility of your joining my service.” She stopped even closer to him, watching in delight as realization dawned upon his face. “Let it be known, my knight, that by serving me you would gain not only a rich, _rich_ reward, but you would also be the receiver of the reverence and respect of my court.”

She didn’t need to add much else. Even the dullest of servants – nevermind a knight like Antonio – would understand clearly that the lady’s advances stemmed not from her desire for his well-being, but from her desire for _him_.

Antonia glanced down at where Deborah’s hand was resting on her arm. She thought of Steve, her king and best friend, with his beautiful smile and his strong, gentle hands, and slowly stepped back to let the lady’s arm fall from where it was touching her.

“My lady, your offer is received with gratitude, but the obligation which binds me to my lord the king ties my obedience to his will and his will alone. Therefore, I pray you bear me no ill will, though I cannot enter into your service, and I pray you accept as the reason for my refusal the desire to serve my lord until death, or until he no longer wishes to keep me as his loyal servant.”

And, quickly taking his leave, Antonio withdrew from her presence, hurrying back inside the castle.

Deborah watched him go, pleased. Her plan had been set into motion. Now she just needed to wait until nightfall.

***

After the sun had finally set, in the privacy of her own quarters Antonia set to the task of removing her clothes. The servants had heated a basin of water at her request, leaving it inside her bedchamber, and she was eager to put it to use before it lost all its warmth, already enjoying the mere idea of scrubbing away all the grime staining her skin and of finding relief from the soreness of her tired muscles. The life of a knight was not one without hard work, she supposed, and she _had_ been raised as a princess until not so many months prior.

Antonia stripped down to her undergarments and began to work on removing the bandages which were compressing her chest: they were the worst part of her disguise, far more painful – after a day of wearing them – than any other injury she usually sustained in sparring, but they were also necessary to hide her true identity, especially when she was not wearing her armor.

She had just allowed the bandages to fall away and inhaled the first truly free breath since that morning, when she was interrupted by a knock to the door. Antonia froze, caught off guard, and instinctively reached for her sword, cursing when her hand found nothing but air against her side.

“Who’s there?” she asked instead.

A beat of silence, then a timid voice came from the other side of the door.

“I’m one of Lady Deborah’s servants, I have… I was told to come and find you.”

With a sigh, Antonia grabbed her discarded shirt and begrudgingly dressed herself once again, not bothering with anything more than her sleeping shirt and pants. She glanced down at her body, and found the shirt loose enough to cover some her curves. The girl probably wouldn’t pay enough attention to notice anything amiss, especially not in the dimly lit room.

“Just a moment, please.”

There was no reply from the other side of the door. Antonia walked towards it, but paused once her hand went to turn the key. Stepping backwards, she hurried to grab the knife which she kept hidden underneath her pillow, slipping it behind her back as she moved towards the entrance.

The key turned with a _click_ , and she opened the door just enough to see who was on the other side. The young maid, a girl who looked no older than sixteen, quickly lowered her head in respect, her hands clasped before her, her grip so tight Antonia was sure it had to hurt.

“Apologies for the interruption, my lord. May I come in?”

Antonia hesitated, cautious, but the girl didn’t appear to be armed: she was trembling slightly, and looked quite pale in the candlelight.

With a nod, she opened the door just enough to let the girl in before quickly closing it behind her. Antonia didn’t waste time in locking it: she had no intention of entertaining the girl for long.

Antonia turned around to face her guest, who had scurried to the middle of the room, gaze firmly affixed onto the floor – whether she had taken notice of the bandages discarded on the floor, Antonia did not know, as the girl didn’t make show of suspicion – but the maiden didn’t appear to be any calmer in the privacy of Antonia’s chambers, instead shaking even more so than she had before.

“My lord...” she began, but her voiced wavered dangerously and thus she fell silent, instead unclasping her hands and shakily reaching behind her neck, loosening the strings which held her dress.

Before Antonia could fully comprehend what was happening, the young girl let the dress fall from her body, and quickly sank to her knees, her clothing pooled around her.

For a long, suspended instant, neither of them moved: Antonia was standing by the door, her mind still reeling, while the girl was kneeling on the floor, her bare body on display.

Realization hit Antonia so suddenly that she almost faltered, suddenly lightheaded. She quickly hurried towards the girl, who tensed up even more, bracing herself as though awaiting violence, and it broke Antonia’s heart. She stopped a few paces away from the girl, crouching down to face the kneeling maiden.

“Dress yourself,” she said sternly. The girl flinched, and Antonia gentled her tone. “I will not touch you. Please, cover yourself.”

The maiden looked at her, her gaze watery with tears, but quickly complied.

Antonia rose to her feet, offering her hand to the young girl and helping her to her feet once she was dressed again.

“Now, young lady, hurry back to the servant’s quarters, and do not vex your mind with worries: this… incident shall remain between us, understood?”

The girl nodded, tears finally spilling from her eyes. “Thank you, Sir, thank you, I…”

She sobbed, once, and darted forwards to wrap her arms around Antonia’s body.

As soon as their bodies pressed against each other’s, they both froze.

 The girl let go of her with a gasp, looking up at Antonia’s face with wide, terrified eyes, and before Antonia knew what she was doing she had the girl pinned against the wall, her knife pressed against the girl’s throat.

The girl yelled out in shock, flailing wildly. One of her arms hit the table in Antonia’s chambers, sending a vase onto the floor, the sound of it shattering echoing loudly inside the room.

The sound of boots hurrying in the corridor gave Antonia pause.

“Sir?” a guard asked from the other side of the door. “Do you require assistance?”

“No,” Antonia barked, loudly, her voice sharp over the girl’s crying. “Thank you, Guard. You may take leave.”

A brief moment passed before the guard’s steps could be heard once more, their noise gradually disappearing as he walked back to his position.

Antonia returned her attention towards the crying girl in front of her.

“If you speak word of this,” she threatened, pressing more firmly against the girl’s neck as her sobs became louder, “I will cut your tongue out with this same knife.”

“I won’t, Sir, I won’t, please, I swear, Sir,” the girl pleaded, gasping in between sobs. “I’m so sorry, please, I’m so sorry Sir…”

Antonia let her hands fall from the maiden’s neck. She stared at the crying girl, and felt her own heart constrict with worry and regret.

“Leave.”

The maiden all but ran outside the door.

Antonia heaved a shaking breath, trying to control her panicked thoughts. She locked the door with unsteady hands and went to undress again.

She washed herself methodically, eyes gazing into nothingness, the now cold water offering little help in calming her thoughts.

No sleep came to her that night.

***

“Has the deed been done?”

“Yes, milady.”

“Good,” Deborah said, pleased. “Now go, I have no need for you until morning. And stop crying, will you? It is _so_ improper. Save those tears for tomorrow, when we appear in front of the king.”

“Yes, milady.” And with a quick bow, the servant girl scurried away, her shoulders still shaking with quiet sobs.

Deborah sighed, satisfied. In the morning, she would ask an audience with the king, bringing the girl with her, and denounce Sir Antonio for taking advantage of an innocent girl.

The knight would surely plead his innocence, but if word of such events were to leave the castle his reputation would greatly suffer. And King Steve would have to demand proof of his knight’s innocence, which Antonio would not be able to give, or be forced to punish his vassal in a manner chosen by the offended party, as was the norm in such cases.

It would be easy to just demand the knight to be whipped or thrown in jail for a fortnight, Deborah knew, but that would also make her unfavorable in the eyes of other nobles: it was unseemly, after all, to demand such a brutish form of violence.

No, that would not do. She needed to make show of being fair, if she hoped to ruin only Sir Antonio’s reputation and not her own. And to force King Steve into sending his beloved knight to his death?

That would be the sweetest revenge of all.

***

Before continuing with this tale, the readers must be informed of what follows: once upon a time, in a certain forest of the province of Brooklyn, there was to be found a strange race of beings, for whom one half of their bodies bore a resemblance to that of a man, though they had ears like a goat’s and horns as well, and who in their lower parts had legs resembling those of a rough and shaggy goat, with a little tail, hairy and short. These creatures were called satyrs, and their depredations often caused great loss and damage to the villages and the farms and the people living in the country outside Brooklyn.

King Steve had tried again and again to have one of these satyrs taken alive and delivered over into his keeping, but there was no one inside the court with enough courage to undertake this adventure and capture a satyr for the king.

By endeavoring to send Antonio on an errand of this sort, the cunning Lady Deborah had hoped to be the cause of Antonio's demise.

But as it often happens, by the workings of divine providence and supreme justice, the one wishing for another’s destruction was cast under the feet of the one she wished to destroy.

***

Steve tried not to groan in despair as the messenger delivered news of Lady Deborah’s demand of an audience with him. The von Schmidts had spent years pushing him to agree to a marriage between the lady and himself, but he would have sooner gouged out his own eyes than taken Deborah as his bride.

The lady in question breezed into the room not half an hour later, with one of her maidens behind her, and smiled pleasantly as she saw him.

“King Rogers! My lord, it has been too long since our last encounter!”

“A king is often busy, my lady, and can rarely find the time for personal pleasures,” he replied, begrudgingly giving her a fake smile.

She didn’t seem to mind his uncourteous reply, appearing instead pleased by his turn of phrase.

“Why,” said the treacherous lady, immediately taking a more somber tone, “fate would have it that it is not such a pleasant matter which brought me to your court on such a lovely day as this. You must forgive my audacity, your majesty, but I feel as though a private audience would be better suited to the matters at hand.”

Steve internally frowned. Never before had Deborah asked for a private audience, and there was something about her attitude that bothered him. She appeared to be concerned, yet simultaneously far too pleased with herself, an expression which seemed even more worrisome when coupled with her unusual request.

Steve had no doubt of the fact she was up to something.

“I see no reason for a private audience, Lady Deborah. The only people present in this room are you, myself, my guards, and my trusted advisor,” he pointed out, sharing a worried glance with Sam, his Chief General. “I have nothing to hide from them.”

The king’s worry rose once more when Deborah’s frown only deepened.

“In that case, my lord, I have come to you concerning a matter of honor. My trusted maiden,” she said, gesturing at the girl behind her, “has been… violated, inside this very castle, last night.”

Steve’s eyebrows shot upwards at that, surprise and horror clear on his face. Deborah bit back a laugh and continued.

“I found her after the deed, and demanded to know what had happened. The poor girl told me, and I made promise to her of bringing her justice. I stand before you on this day to denounce the perpetrator of such deplorable acts.”

Steve blinked, taken aback. Never before had such a thing happened in his castle. He had heard of other nobles who had found themselves in his situation, and had also heard of far too many maidens who had suffered such violence, but he would have never thought of the possibility of said acts happening inside his own palace.

“That’s– of course, Lady Deborah. I would gladly help you.” Steve stumbled over his words, thrown off balance by the turn of events. There was a heavy feeling in his stomach, the sour taste of incoming danger that had been so often useful in the field of battle: he dismissed it, thinking it was naught but the horror he felt at this newfound discovery.

Deborah bowed deeply, face alight with gratitude. “Thank you, my lord.” As she rose again, she allowed a brief smile to slip through her carefully crafted mask, there and vanished once more in a flash. “The man who is responsible for so horribly abusing this innocent girl… he is known as Antonio of Manhattan. The Man of Iron, as he is called on the streets, believed to be hero by all.”

Deborah stared at the king, enjoying the sweet taste of revenge as she reveled in the sudden shift of his expression, shock and dread flashing across his eyes before he could control himself.

The royal advisor, Sam, froze in place, visibly tensing up, and even the guards shuffled uncomfortably.

They all knew what consequences her words would bring.

“Guards,” Steve barked, making them stand at attention, “one of you, bring Sir Tony here, with haste.”

A nod, and one of the soldiers ran off to find the knight. Steve didn’t speak again, and neither did Deborah, the two of them staring at the other in a manner not unlike that of two caged beasts.

After almost a decade of careful political relationships, always carefully treading on the right side of social norms, Steve was finally faced with Deborah’s true nature, rearing its ugly head. He had no doubt of Tony’s innocence, but such accusations held enough weight to not be easily dismissed. She knew that, of course, and Steve could see that there was yet more that she had planned.

He had the sudden temptation of banishing her from his kingdom, just for daring to accuse his beloved knight of such vile acts. But he could not, for his own foolishness had provided her with multiple witnesses of her fair and open demand for justice.

Just as such thoughts left his mind, Antonio burst through the doors, breathing heavily and looking disheveled, as though he had just left his workshop to run to the throne room. He was wearing nothing but a short-sleeved garment that showed off his muscular arms, glistening with sweat, and some loose pants tied in place with a simple belt. There was a trace of black coal on his cheek, and had he been any closer to Steve, the king would have yearned to wipe it away.

“You called, my liege?” Antonio asked, after a quick bow to both Steve and the lady, his movements faltering when he caught sight of the girl.

“Yes, my knight. Lady Deborah von Schmidt has just accused you of raping the maiden which stands behind her. Now tell me, Sir Antonio, does she speak the truth?”

Antonia blanched, eyes flitting from Steve to Deborah and back. Of all things she had feared would come from the previous night’s events, she had not expected _this_ to happen. Lady Deborah was far more devious than she thought.

“No, my liege. The girl offered herself to me, but I refused her.”

Steve was filled with such a strong wave of relief that he had to close his eyes to keep himself under control. Tony, his beautiful, clever, loyal Tony, truly was innocent. He should have never doubted it.

His relief was shattered when the lady spoke again. “I have proof of my word, my lord.”

And with a wave, she called forward one of the guards.

“Speak, soldier.”

The guard bowed before Steve and then began speaking. “Yesterday night, I bore witness to this maiden entering Sir Antonio’s chambers. After but a few minutes, I was alerted by the sound of a girl’s crying and something breaking, and hurried to request assistance if needed. Sir Antonio dismissed me without allowing me to enter, and a few minutes later the girl ran out his chamber, in tears and with her clothing in disarray.”

At that, Steve’s eyes snapped towards tony. The knight was tense, his hands fisted so tightly that his knuckles had turned white, and his mouth pressed into a thin, displeased line.

“Sir Antonio, do you deny such facts?”

Antonia opened her mouth to reply, ready to lie and spare herself, but her vow of loyalty to her king gave her pause. She hesitated, and then sighed, her shoulders dropping in defeat. “No, sire. The guard speaks nothing but the truth. Yet, my lord, I still plead my innocence: I did not violate that girl, and the reasons for what the knight has heard are not the ones Lady Deborah has accused me of.”

“Well then, Antonio, what were the reasons for the girl’s cries?”

Another moment of hesitation. “I would prefer not to say, my lord.”

Steve shot him a glare, frustrated, before turning towards the girl. “Why were you crying, young lady? Is what Lady Deborah speaks of the truth?”

The young maiden was clearly terrified, shaking like a leaf in the wind, and her eyes immediately snapped to meet Tony’s. They stared at each other for a few long seconds, seemingly holding a conversation only they could hear, before the girl nodded silently and quickly looked down, curling into herself.

Steve caught sight of Tony’s pained expression and had to shut his eyes against the anger building in his own heart.

He opened his eyes, looked at Deborah’s smug expression, and swallowed down the hatred that rose inside him at the sight.

“What is it that you request as payment for this offence, von Schmidt?”

Raising an eyebrow at the way she was addressed, she replied readily.

“My request,” Deborah said, unable to keep the glee from her voice, “is that Antonio be sent on a quest to find a satyr. Sir Antonio, your faithful and devoted servant, is strong and vigorous enough in body, and daring and courageous enough in soul, to go and capture for you one of these satyrs, and to bring him back to you alive, without calling on anyone else to aid him. If he were to succeed, he would prove his virtue to be true, and be granted the honors he so clearly deserves. And if he were to fail, he would still prove than in every moment till death his loyalty lies with his king, and his sacrifice would repay this maiden’s lost honor.”

Steve’s hand clenched the armrests of his throne with such strength that he could almost feel the wood giving way into splinters under his fingers.

“I will not send my most honored knight on a quest that will bear no fruit other than certain death! He is far too valuable to–”

“My lord,” Deborah interrupted, feeling daring beyond what was safe and not caring in the slightest, “my request has been voiced. If you refuse to help me in repaying the violent acts suffered by my servant… well, I fear deeply that your reputation would suffer from it.”

She glanced between Steve and Antonio, disgust flashing in her face, before she continued. “Every person in your kingdom is well aware of their king's longing for companionship, and of his close relationship with his most beloved knight. Rumors spread so fast, don’t they? What will the people say when said knight is publicly accused of such deplorable acts, and then refused an honorable quest to clear his name – a quest that, might I add, would greatly help the citizens of this realm – because his life is found to be more valuable to his king than the honor of a wronged maiden and the safety of those plagued by the satyrs?”

And with those final words, she fell silent, her plan finally reaching its completion. As much as the king despised her, he could not risk her spreading news of a relationship between him and his knight, especially not if she had such proof, and he could not allow her to tarnish Antonio’s name.

Deborah knew that the strength of her word was such that other nobles would believe her, and the king knew it, too.

Therefore, with pain in his eyes and sorrow weighing hard on his heart, Steve turned towards his beloved knight.

“Antonio,” he said, watching as the man stood straighter at the call of his name, shoulders back and proud in the face of peril. The words were as sour as poison on the king’s lips, and yet their truth rang loud and clear. “If indeed you love me, as you make show of doing, and as all people believe, you will now carry out this request. If you succeed, you shall gain the glory of vanquishing a fearsome foe, and you will prove true your apology to Lady Deborah. And should you perish in the attempt, your glory indeed shall be grand, and your honorable name will be forever untarnished.”

Antonio bowed deeply, offering Steve a warm smile as he straightened.

“My lord, in this and in everything else your wish is my command. But, before I commit myself to this dangerous task, I beg you, my lord, that you will allow me two things. Firstly, I ask for a large metal basket, of the same size as those used by the servants to carry laundry, to be taken into the woods where the satyrs dwell. And along with this I would take with me a large cask of good white wine, the best that can be had and the strongest, together with two bags full of the finest white bread.”

Antonio’s gaze was unwavering as he spoke his demands, his clever eyes meeting Steve’s with pride and affection, and the king was helpless but to trust him.

He ordered that Tony be brought what he had requested, and watched with a heavy heart as his knight bid his farewell.

***

Antonia had to admit to herself that she had underestimated Lady Deborah’s evilness. Not only had she been ready to _prostitute_ her young servant to Antonio, but she had then proceeded to accuse the knight of raping her!

The woman had woven such an intricate trap for the king that even spiders with their finest webs would be put to shame.

Poor Steve had looked absolutely devastated at the prospect of losing his Tony. The thought made something warm settle inside of Antonia’s chest, as though the proof of her king’s devotion were a physical force behind her breastbone, but the sentiment was soured by the unfortunate situation that had warranted it.

Fate truly had a funny way of weaving men’s destiny, she mused. She ran from her kingdom to escape being bound to a man only to willingly give herself to another, and now her honor was at risk of being lost because of a devious lie.

Shaking herself from such thoughts, Antonia continued her journey towards the wood in which the satyrs dwelled. She had read much on the subject of those creatures in her youth, and she knew what their weakest points would be, if all went according to plan.

She might have underestimated her opponent, but Deborah as well had severely misjudged Antonia’s abilities. A mistake that she was sure to pay dearly for.

Once inside the forest, Antonia dismounted her horse and tied him a little ways off the main path, leaving some water and food for him to eat, and quickly made her way further inside the forest, carrying what she had requested to the king.

She was looking for something specific amidst the woods, craning her head around to find… yes, there it was! A small clearing surrounded by a circle of trees, the ground freshly marked with hoofprints. She took a copper bucket and began to fill it with white wine drawn from the cask, and this she poured into the metal basket she had carried with her. Next, she took some of the bread, and, having broken it in pieces, put these into the basket full of wine.

Once she was done, she climbed up into a thick-leaved tree which stood nearby, and waited to see what might happen next.

***

You would have found, my dearest readers, that Antonia had not been long up in the tree before the satyrs, who had smelt the scent of the fragrant wine, began to draw near the buckets, and having come close to them, each one rejoiced and drank a good bellyful of wine, greedier than hungry wolves. And after they had filled their stomachs and taken enough, they laid down to sleep, and so sound and deep was their drunken slumber that all the noise in the world would not have roused them.

It was only then that Antonia, seeing that the time for action had come, descended from the tree and softly took place beside one of the satyrs. With a few careful knots, she bound him with a cord she had brought with her, testing the rope to check its strength. Once she made sure the satyr was not going to flee, she carried him towards the path she had crossed before, and, careful to silence any noise, laid him upon her horse and carried him off.

And while Antonia was on her way back, with the satyr tightly bound behind her, they came at nightfall to a village not far from the city, and the creature, who by this time had recovered from the effects of the wine, woke up and began to yawn as if he were rising from his bed.

As the satyr woke, the fates which control the life of each man at last began to turn a benevolent eye towards our heroine, for as she made her way home, a few peculiar incidents happened as follows: during their travels, Antonia and the satyr crossed ways with a weeping father, who was going to bury his dead child, and the singing priest, who conducted the service; when he looked upon this spectacle the satyr began to laugh mightily. Afterwards, when they had entered the city and reached the town square, the satyr saw a great crowd of nobles who were staring open-mouthed at the poor boy who had just mounted the gallows to be hanged by the executioner, and the satyr laughed even louder than he had laughed before. And afterwards, when they were almost inside the palace, the crowd standing by erupted into cheers, and they all cried out, 'Antonio! Antonio!'

And the satyr, when he heard this shouting, laughed louder than ever.

***

When Steve was informed of Sir Antonio’s return, he rudely dismissed the council which was presently being held and rushed to the throne room to meet his knight, paying little heed to protocol or appearance as his thoughts rapidly condensed into a string of “Tony, Tony, Tony” repeating in his mind.

Steve had been certain, when Tony had left the castle, that he was never going to see him again. He had been plagued by the fears which his own fantasy had provided, robbing him of sleep and following him even after he woke: Antonio would have valiantly fought against the beasts, but inevitably perished in the effort. In his final moments, his last thoughts would have strayed towards Steve; whether their nature was loving or not, Steve hadn’t yet decided. Then, after a few days without hearing from Tony, Steve would have sent out a search party, who would have inevitably come back empty-handed, and Steve would have grieved the loss of his love, who he had yet to confess his feelings to.

Yet Tony had survived. Beautiful, brave, strong Tony came back to Steve.

Steve all but ran into the throne room, finding Deborah already there and only giving her the barest hint of a nod. He had just sat on his throne when Antonio walked in, head high and proud, with a bound satyr behind him.

“My liege,” Antonio said, kneeling in front of Steve as gracefully as ever, “your wish has been fulfilled.” And, stepping aside, he presented to the king the satyr, who, immediately after laying his eyes upon Deborah, laughed again, and so loud and long was his laughter that all those who were present were left not a little astonished.

Steve too was taken aback by it, but the relief he felt at the sight of Tony was strong enough that all worries left his mind.

“Antonio, the diligence with which you have fulfilled my dearest wish brings you great honor on this day.” He said, standing from his throne. “Let everyone present remember your valor, and know that by completing this quest you have earned the highest degree of my affection and esteem. Now, let’s bring the creature to his cell, and let’s rejoice in Sir Antonio’s success!”

A chorus of cheers erupted from everyone present, with the exception of Deborah, who looked as though she had been made to swallow a toad. No one paid any mind to her, as the guards took charge of detaining the satyr and the servants rushed to prepare the great hall for a feast in honor of the king’s knight.

Steve only had eyes for Tony, and Tony for him. Without a word, Steve took him by the arm and led him to his chambers.

***

They had barely reached his private chambers when Steve pushed Tony against the wall and kissed him. Antonio kissed back, desperation bleeding through where their lips met, but he pulled away with a gasp as Steve ground his hips against him.

“Steve, Steve, ah- my liege, hold on, please.”

Steve stood back a little, eyes flitting between Tony’s eyes and his mouth. When Tony didn’t give voice to his thoughts, Steve dove in for another kiss. Tony moaned and returned it in kind, but froze when Steve moved with the intention of palming at his crotch. Panicked, he grabbed Steve’s hand, stilling it before it could reach his body.

Steve’s expression morphed into confusion, quickly followed by hurt, and Antonia had to call upon every fiber of her self-control not to drop onto her knees right then and there, but Steve would want to reciprocate, and Antonio wasn’t really Antonio, and-

“My liege,” Tony said, voice rough with desire. “I would desire nothing more than for us to continue this encounter. My heart and soul will always belong to you, Steve, my love.”

Steve agreed with a nod, albeit still feeling vaguely confused.

“Yet this…” Tony continued, a bit flustered, “this is simply… quite new to me, and- “

“Oh,” Steve gasped, sudden understanding dawning on his face. “You’ve, you’ve never…”

Tony blushed and shook his head.

“Never with another man, or…”

“Never with anyone. I have never… I’ve never had the chance of knowing such pleasures in my youth, and afterwards-”

“My beloved,” Steve interrupted, gently placing a hand on Tony’s cheek. “You owe me no excuse. I would still love you, till the end of my days, if you blessed me with nothing more than your friendship; I would give everything I possess to forever find you happy and by my side.” A soft peck on his lips, and Steve straightened, adjusting his robes and pointing his chin towards the door, a boyish smile on his face. “Time to go celebrate your success, my beautiful knight.”

Tony smiled. “Of course, my liege.”

Steve didn’t hesitate as he opened the door, leading the way towards the banquet that was awaiting them.

Antonia followed in his wake, desperately trying to ignore the wetness between her legs.

***

The very next morning, the king found himself just outside the cell where the satyr was kept in hold, with Antonio by his side. They shared but a glance, not daring to sway closer in fear of betraying their shared affections while others’ eyes were upon them, yet Steve felt his heart fill with love just the same.

Steve turned towards the head of the prison guards. The man bowed deeply, straightening with an apologetic look on his face.

“My lord, I was well pleased to hear that you trusted me with the captured satyr, and I have tried my best to pry the words out of his mouth; it is to great shame that I must inform you that I have found him to be mute, as he won’t offer answer to my questioning. If you would so desire, Your Highness, I am sure that you would be able to make him speak. I beg your forgiveness for my shortcomings, my lord.”

Steve waved him away, dismissing him with a benevolent smile. “No need for apologies, Rumlow. I’m sure you have tried your best. You may take leave now.”

Rumlow bowed gratefully and quickly left the corridor, leaving only a few wardens to assist the king and his knight.

“Sire,” Antonio interjected, “if the satyr really is mute, only a god shall make him speak. But if the reason of his muteness comes from but a stubborn resolve to keep silence, I will do all that lies in my power to make him break word.”

Steve nodded. “Your loyalty knows to end, my knight. I would be pleased to aid you in this endeavor, if you’d allow me.”

Tony grinned, amused by the turn of phrase. “Of course, my liege. Who am I to deny my king’s desires?”

With haste, they asked for the satyr to be brought some good food and some wine, and together they sat outside his cell.

“Eat, Satyr.”

But the creature only stared at them without uttering a word.

Antonio, perceiving how obstinate the spirit of the creature was, said, “So you will not answer us, Satyr? Let me tell you, you are being extremely foolish, seeing that I can, if I so desire, let you die of hunger here in prison.”

At these words the satyr shot a side-glance at Antonio. After a moment Antonio went on, “Answer me, Satyr; if you speak to me, you have my word that I will liberate you from this place.”

Then the satyr, who had listened with eagerness to all that had been said, answered as soon as he heard speak of liberation, “What do you want from me?”

Antonio then said, “Tell me, have you eaten and drunk well?'

“Yes,'” said the satyr.

“Now I want you to tell me,” said Antonio, “what was it that moved you to laughter in the village, when we passed the body of the child that was to be buried?”

To this the satyr answered, “I laughed, Knight, not at the dead child, but at the so-called father, to whom the child in the coffin was no kin at all, and I laughed at the priest singing the office, who was the real father. Wouldn’t you have laughed, had you known that the mother of the child had carried on an affair with the priest?'

Antonio chose to ignore him, carrying on. “Now I want to know, Satyr, why did you laugh even louder when we reached the town square?”

“I laughed then at the sight of a thousand or more thieves, who had robbed the public purse of crowns by the million, standing in the piazza to feast their eyes upon the sight of a poor boy led to his execution, a lad who had stolen ten coins to buy bread for himself and his poor children. That was why I laughed.”

Once again, Antonio went on. “And finally, I ask you this: I beg you to tell me why it was that, when we reached the palace, you laughed longer and louder than ever?'

“Ah,” said the satyr, a grin twisting his face, “I fear that I am too tired to answer any more of your questions now, but come back tomorrow, and then I will answer you and tell you what you so wish to know.”

***

As soon as they had left the castle’s jails and found themselves alone, Steve grabbed hold of Tony’s hand.

“Tony…” he began, but held his tongue as he attempted to give voice to his feelings, “I know that I have given you my word, and promised you that I would wait until the end of time for you to allow me the gift of your love. Yet while that still holds true, ever since our encounter my heart has yearned for naught but the sweetness of your lips upon mine.”

Steve took a step closer, boldness growing in him as he caught sight of the blush gracing Tony’s cheeks.

“I am but asking you, my love, to spend the night inside my bed, with promise that I shall never try to take more than what you wish to share with me, as being able to hold you in my arms, even if only for a day, would be the sweetest gift of all.”

Tony smiled at him, raising his hand to softly caress Steve’s cheek. Steve turned his head to place a kiss upon his palm, closing his eyes as he basked in his love’s affection.

“Steve, I…” Tony began, his expression soft yet conflicted. “I would love nothing more, but I still- I don’t, I…” he huffed, flustered, as his words seemed to fail him. “I, too, have been thinking of naught but your lips upon mine, yearning to feel the touch of your hands, but I still cannot bring myself to… to make love to you.”

Steve smiled, a brilliant thing that seemed to light up the entire room, appearing to Tony almost as bright as the sun.

“I know, my love, and I do not mind. Will you just let me hold you, tonight?”

“Yes, my liege,” Tony said, and hoped not to regret following his heart’s desire as Steve dragged them to his rooms.

***

When the next day’s sun began to greet the earth, Antonio woke up to find his king smiling down at him. With his back resting on the headboard, hair shining in the morning light, Steve looked fairer than any angel.

“Good morning, beloved,” Tony said, the raspiness and deepness of his voice doing wonderful things to Steve’s libido.

The king bent down to press a soft kiss on Tony’s curls, whispering back a similar greeting.

Their night together had been much more fulfilling than what Steve had dared to hope for. Tony had become gradually more pliant and relaxed once they had started kissing, so much so that he too had taken some initiative, asking Steve to let him explore his body.

“I’m not ready for you to touch me,” Tony had said, “but I want to… I want to feel you.”

And truly, while Steve might have been the king, he would have done anything to please his beloved knight, and it was not as if feeling his lover’s hands upon his flesh would be a hardship. Tony had been unsure at first, with a shyness so different from his usual confidence that Steve had been helpless but to revel in it, loving the effect he was having on Tony.

Antonio had started with leaving barely there touches on Steve’s arms, then up to his shoulders, and down once again following Steve’s ribs. His touch had grown bolder as he continued, spurred even further by Steve’s soft moans, but his hands never strayed further down than the waist.

When Tony’s mouth had joined his fingers in their exploring, Steve had almost soiled his pants like a lad who had yet to be touched for the first time. But that only seemed to please Tony, who could not quite manage to bite back a groan of arousal, and Steve’s reactions gave him enough confidence to begin lavishing Steve’s body with his tongue.

Once Tony’s lips fell upon Steve’s nipple, and his teeth teasingly bit down on it, a flash of pleasure so bright coursed through Steve’s body that he came with a scream.

That had startled Tony, but he had looked pleased rather than spooked, so Steve had hugged him and pulled him down onto the bed, softly trading chaste kisses until they were asleep.

Now, they were both enjoying the quiet atmosphere inside Steve’s bedchamber, the novelty of sharing a room still present enough to be exciting but pleasant all the same.

They did not yet know that such peacefulness wouldn’t last.

Not plagued by any worries, they dressed themselves – or Steve’s did, as Tony had not removed much clothing – and made sure to appear presentable before making their way outside the room.

Together, they went to see the satyr, only to find him asleep. Antonio gave a sharp kick to the bars, at which the satyr awoke with a start.

“Get up now, Satyr,” ordered Steve, “and tell us what you promised we should hear, and say why you laughed so loud when you came to the palace.”

“Ah, but Your Majesty,” drawled the satyr, “you demand so many answers, and yet offer so little rewards. My people know many secrets, King Steve: seeing the truth where men spread lies is but one of the many gifts which Mother Nature bestowed upon us. And when yesterday your knight spoke of liberation, there still was truth inside his heart, but not the same could be said for you, my lord.”

“Those are bold and careless words to come out of a caged beast’s mouth,” Steve replied, his mouth curved in a bitter arch. “Your kind has for years depredated my kingdom’s villages, bringing destruction upon countless of my people, and yet you demand liberation?”

“I do not care for a life lived in chains, King Steve. I am but a Child of the Moon: I long to dance in her light once more with my brothers and sister, with wine and joyfulness warming our heart, and my Goddess shining down upon me. And I would pay heed in making me your enemy, King Steve: the moonlight can many a time reveal what otherwise lies hidden under the sun... something which you and your knight should very well know.”

“Silence!” Tony barked. “You will not speak to your king in such a manner. Now, for the final time, before I see you meet the end of my sword: why was it that you laughed a third time, upon reaching the castle?”

Hearing this, the satyr began laughing once again, a mischievous smile on his face. “Oh, my foolish knight! I laughed for a reason which you ought to understand better than I.”

And turning towards Steve, he said: “I laughed, my king, at hearing them all shouting, "Antonio! Antonio!" while all along your knight really was Antonia.”

Steve flinched back in shock and confusion. What did he mean, _Antonia_?

He swiveled around to meet Tony’s gaze, but the knight was avoiding his eyes. He made to open his mouth and ask for an explanation, but Antonio interjected before he could even begin.

Heart beating wildly, Antonia kept her attention on the satyr. “And when you had been brought into the very presence of the king,” she asked, failing at keeping the quiver out of her voice but continuing anyway, “what made you laugh then as if nothing could stop you?'

To this the satyr shook his head, sat down, and replied: “I laughed then so outrageously because the king, and you as well, believed that the lady standing beside you was really a lady, whereas Baron von Schmidt, whose name she so proudly bears, was not even her father.”

And then he was silent.

***

As soon as they left the gallows, Antonia started to panic.

“My liege,” she began, only to snap her mouth shut at Steve’s thunderous gaze.

“Silence.” He ordered. “I will not hear another word to come out of your mouth. Follow me.”

The servants moving around the castle jumped out of the king’s way, worriedly noting his bleak expression and Sir Antonio’s desperate eyes. Whispers moved through the castle of a fight between the two, reaching even the ears of Lady Deborah, who gleefully laughed, as she believed her plan to have succeeded.

Meanwhile, Antonia silently followed Steve into his chambers, where just a few hours prior they had been sharing a bed, and tried not to despair in the face of her king’s anger.

Steve sat heavily down onto his bed, scrubbing his face with his hands. He suddenly looked much older than he truly was, his broad shoulders tense as though they carried far too much weight upon them, and the tired lines of his face only serving to deepen the angry set of his mouth.

He finally raised his head to look at his knight.

“Explain to me,” he said, “what the satyr meant when he called you Antonia.”

Tony did not reply immediately, eyes fixed onto Steve’s face as if looking for something. Whatever it was, the knight must have found it, because his shoulders (hers? Steve asked himself,) dropped in defeat.

“My name is not Antonio... but Antonia,” she began, carefully enunciating each word as she spoke. “I am the daughter of King Howard of Manhattan. I was born and raised as a princess, but my father had already given all of his land to my three sisters, and had nothing left to offer me as dowry once I became of age. He wanted me to marry a Marquis, the ruler of our neighboring lands, and the only suitor who would accept me with no possessions to my name. Yet I did not care to accept his offer. I wanted to explore the world, and so I left my father’s castle; but a maiden travelling alone must face too many dangers, much more in number and subtlety than those faced by a knight. Therefore, Antonio was born in Antonia’s stead. But my liege,” she pleaded, her voice breaking as she fell onto her knees in front of Steve, “I have lied about nothing but my name. My mind, soul, and heart remain the same as those of your beloved Antonio’s. My mind still sings your praises; my soul still yearns for your touch; my heart still beats for you, my beloved. That has not, and never will, change. Please do not cast me away.”

She fell silent with a sob, her desperate words hanging in the quiet of the room.

Steve stared at her, kneeling and begging at his feet, for a long time. There was a painful wound inside his soul, the place where his trust in his beloved Tony used to reside, and which now had been left torn open and empty. He wanted to be angry, to scream, to cry. He wanted to get up and leave Antonia there, begging and desperate on the floor, just to let her feel the same pain he was feeling... but he could not.

He asked himself if knowing that his beloved Antonio was in truth a woman changed the way his heart longed for her: it didn’t. He asked himself if he could blame her: he couldn’t. Looking into her eyes, and seeing the desperation which burned underneath them, he asked himself if he believed in her love for him: he did.

Steve had never been a perfect man, but he had always been a just one.

Raising to his feet, he squared his shoulders and looked down at Antonia, who immediately dropped her gaze to the floor. Her shoulders were hunched, her posture reverent and afraid, all things which Antonio had never been.

Seeing his beloved now, trembling and terrified of being rejected... Steve could not bear another second it.

“Stand up, Antonia.”

Steve did not know what was in his voice, but the princess did as she was ordered, raising to her feet but refusing to meet his gaze all the same. She was still trembling, curling into herself, and Steve felt a wave of protectiveness crash through him.

Ever so gently, he placed a hand on her jaw, and tilted her head up. Her eyes snapped to his, full of despair, and at the same time hardened by the same pride and determination that Antonio had always possessed. Steve knew, in that moment, that if he were to banish Antonia from his life, she would not have allowed it to break her.

But this was not a theory he was willing to test.

Unable to wait any longer, he leaned forward until their lips met, leaving a barely there kiss onto her mouth, before softly placing his lips upon her forehead.

“I forgive you, my love,” he sighed, hugging her tight in his arms as she exhaled a shaking breath. “We will again need to discuss this, but I do not hate you for what you’ve done. Now – and this is not a question which holds any trickery, my love – but who will leave this room, willing to face the rest of the kingdom? Antonio, or Antonia?”

Antonia stood back to look at Steve, her posture regaining its usual calm, determined confidence by the second, and Steve found himself falling in love once again in the face of her strength.

“I am tired of hiding, my liege. I did not lie when I said that my heart belonged to you, now and forever. As long as you will remain by my side, I care not for other people’s thoughts.”

Steve smiled, and kissed her again. “Very well, then. Now, we might find it _wise_ to break word with Lady Deborah. Many interesting things have transpired from the satyr’s mouth, and I would give my entire kingdom for the pleasure of seeing her face once we recount the creature’s word.”

With a laugh, Antonia kissed her king as she took Steve’s hand in hers, and together they walked out into the world.

Always by each other’s side.

***

Alas, my wonderful readers, thus ends our story.

Soon after they left the king’s chambers, Steve and Antonia called for all those in the castle to gather and listen as they recounted the truths revealed by the satyr.

Steve publicly accused Lady Deborah of her crimes, and immediately cast her out of the kingdom. He sent missive to Baron von Schmidt, informing him that Deborah was no kin of his, and he too banished her from his lands. No one ever heard of her again, and her name quickly became forgotten.

Sir Antonio also revealed his true identity, causing shock and astonishment to spread throughout the crowd, but the people soon rejoiced at the news, and it is said that for hours the streets were filled with great chants and celebrations in the name of Dame Antonia, the Woman of Iron.

And after a few weeks, the king publicly proclaimed his love for Antonia, and made her his wife in the presence of all the nobles and knights.

When they found her parents to still be alive, they greatly rejoiced, and quickly dispatched ambassadors to King Howard and to Maria his wife, and to the three sisters of Antonia, to tell them how she was now the wife of a king.

Thus the noble Antonia, in recompense for her loyalty and her valor, became a queen and lived long with Steve her husband. Forever one by the other’s side.

 

**Author's Note:**

>  **PSA** : binding with bandages is extremely unsafe and harmful for your body. If you need to bind, please do so in a safer way! This is a work of fiction, not real life: suspend your disbelief and don't try this at home. <3  
> \---
> 
> This story was based on an italian fairy-tale taken from the book _"Le piacevoli notti"_ by Straparola. I remembered reading this story in high school and absolutely loving it... so I _obviously_ had to write this lol  
> Most of the premise of this story follows the original work, but the central part of the plot has been completely modified. Let's say that I consider this a sort of remix!
> 
> It was definitely a challenge, but I must admit that going for the whole "dramatic mediaval romance" was a ton of fun!  
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated. I hope you liked this!
> 
> Many many thanks to my betas @merelydovely and @AbaddonsLittleWItch! You guys were amazing <3
> 
> You can find me on tumblr @[lunaticalwriter](http://lunaticalwriter.tumblr.com/) and on our all-universe stony discord server [here](https://discord.gg/PBsrQ2)


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